


Just to see you smile

by neveranygoodupthere



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 17:28:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15667884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveranygoodupthere/pseuds/neveranygoodupthere
Summary: Kris isn’t quite sure how he ended up at Sweeter Than Sugar eating a lemon Italian ice with Dumo when he could have been at home napping. Or at home with Dumo getting his dick wet. But when the kid had come up to him after practice—his cap clenched in his hands, still in his skates looming over him as Kris stripped out of his Under Armor on the bench—and asked if he wanted to go, he hadn’t been able to think of a single good reason not to. Not when Dumo’s eyes tracked the sweat still dripping down his chest as he asked. Not when he seemed too nervous to even look Kris in the eye.





	Just to see you smile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snickfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickfic/gifts).



> A little slice of time set in the 2015-2016 season! Prompt was "iced lemonade," though I took a little liberty on that.

Kris isn’t quite sure how he ended up at _Sweeter Than Sugar_ eating a lemon Italian ice with Dumo when he could have been at home napping. Or at home with Dumo getting his dick wet. But when the kid had come up to him after practice—his cap clenched in his hands, still in his skates looming over him as Kris stripped out of his Under Armor on the bench—and asked if he wanted to go, he hadn’t been able to think of a single good reason not to. Not when Dumo’s eyes tracked the sweat still dripping down his chest as he asked. Not when he seemed too nervous to even look Kris in the eye.

Now they’re sitting across from each other as Dumo looks pleased as punch with his passion fruit sorbet, selected after he’d tried at least five flavors of ice cream. He keeps smiling at Kris for no reason Kris an discern. But he kind of likes how happy he seems to make the kid, so he doesn’t say anything about it.

“How’d you find this place?” He finally asks after five minutes of eating in silence. Dumo seems content to sit and smile, but his face lights up at Kris’s question.

“I get this e-newsletter that tells me all these different things happening in the neighborhood each week. I saw that this place opened up last month and I’ve been wanting to try it.” He glances around, grinning at their surroundings. Kris has never seen someone smile so much. Dumo’s normally a pretty happy guy, but this is excessive even for him. “It’s pretty great, right?”

Kris glances around too, takes in the brightly-lit, ‘50s throwback decor, the fingerprints left from sticky hands on the glass guard to the ice cream, and the hopeful look on the face in front of him.

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

Seriously, the kid’s eyes are going to pop out of his head if they get any brighter. “Awesome. I knew you’d like it.”

They lapse back into silence. Kris swirls another scoop around in his mouth. He and Dumo have been…something…for nearly three months now, fucking around after practice when the kid has too much energy, or sometimes Kris will invite him over on off days when his house is too quiet. He fills up all the spaces with his 6’4”-frame and his big grin. He keeps trying to cook for Kris—he’s always got a recipe he wants to try, or some exotic cut of meat that he’s been saving for a “special occasion.” Kris never lets him.

He wants to, sure. Sometimes he imagines the kid bringing over his alligator or his kangaroo or whatever, firing up the grill, finding the perfect wine in Kris’s cellar. Not that Dumo would be able to tell the difference. He knows food like nobody’s business, but his alcohol preferences don’t stretch much further than Coors or Jim Beam. Every time he offers to stay over and make dinner, when they’re still flushed and breathing heavy, Kris is two seconds from saying yes. But somehow it never seems right. And Kris watches that big smile dim just a little.

But today, Dumo’s smile, stained red with sorbet, seems permanent. Kris finds himself smiling too. He’s not itching to get his own space back, or uncomfortable with the level of emotion being displayed. He simply…is. And it’s a wonderful feeling. He and Dumo talk easily about the team, their game the next day, their summer plans. Kris laughs, though Dumo says nothing particularly funny. But he feels good, light, in a way he hasn’t in a long time. He thinks it might be from their new coach, or the team’s resurgence. But he thinks it might also be because of Brian.

Dumo licks the last of his passion fruit sorbet from the spoon. Kris is content to savor his lemon ice, but notices Dumo start to fidget as he waits, so he suggests they take a walk in the nearby park while he finishes.

“Yeah, that’ll be awesome,” Dumo says, immediately standing and grabbing his coat. Kris stands more slowly, but when he reaches back for his coat slung across his chair, he finds Dumo there, holding it. For an alarmed second, Kris thinks he’s going to try to help him put it on, but he only smiles and hands it over.

“I was in this park the other day and I found a really great tree I want to show you.”

“A tree?”

“Yeah, it’s apparently the oldest tree in the park, been there for more than three hundred years. It had a pretty bench near it where we can sit.” Dumo glances back, his longer legs carrying him along faster. He looks happy, Kris thinks, but unsure, and Kris is tired of putting that look on his face. He reaches out and touches his hand softly to the kid’s elbow.

“Stop for a second, yeah?”

“Um, sure, what’s up? Did you change your mind?”

Kris shakes his head. “Why did you ask me here today, Brian?”

Dumo’s face collapses for a split second, but he’s not so young that he can’t pull it back together immediately. “I thought you’d like it. You have those Italian ice things in your freezer, and I knew they had good stuff here.” He shrugs, a quick jerk of his shoulders, and looks away.

“I did like it. It was really nice to be here with you.”

Dumo cuts his eyes shyly back to Kris. “Yeah?”

“Yes. But why did you really bring me here?”

Dumo watches him for a minute, looking caught out, and Kris doesn’t think he’ll answer. But then eh says, “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. Tell me.” Kris looks around quickly, but the sidewalk is deserted. He runs his thumb quickly over Dumo’s bottom lip where he’s biting it anxiously. Dumo’s eyes go wide at the gesture, and his lips tick up at the corners. Kris wants to look away from the blind hope in his face, but he can’t.

“I thought it could be, like, a date.”

“A date?”

“Yeah,” Dumo says, looking somehow shy and defiant at once. “A first date.”

And something settles in Kris with that look. This is Brian. His linemate. His friend. The kid’s braver than Kris has ever been, putting his heart out there time after time. Bringing him on a date when Kris could easily reject him again. He doesn’t know why he’s been so scared of taking what’s offered, of giving back the same. But now he’s going to hope he’s just as brave. He scoops up a spoonful of lemon ice, mostly slush now, and lets it melt the rest of the way in his mouth. It’s tart and sweet and absolutely perfect.

“Maybe for our second date, I’ll let you cook for me and pick up a pint of this for dessert.”

“Second date?”

Kris smiles. “Yeah, second date.”

They stand on the sidewalk grinning at each other while Kris’s lemon ice melts in the afternoon sun. 


End file.
